


Statistics and Star Princes

by assaultandroidaubergine (masteremeraldholder)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Changing Tenses, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Rated T for swearing, Shenanigans, Weddings, this fic old af!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masteremeraldholder/pseuds/assaultandroidaubergine
Summary: They start positioning them in rows of four, and when they’re about halfway through, Eita gets the illusion of a cheap ass family reunion or graduation.He sets down a chair, leaning up to wipe his forehead. “This shit’s gonna be trashy as hell.”“Mm,” Reon muses, setting down his six chairs. (The bastard upped his numbers.) “I think if I was that in love I wouldn’t want to wait either.”Eita honestly and truthfully never thought of it this way. Reon’s wisdom forever shocks him.(Or Eita's sister suddenly comes back into his life and what follows)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oohira Reon/Semi Eita, Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	1. He'll always make himself available for you

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't watched hq since 2017 and this has been in my drafts since then, but i didn't wanna see it sit there anymore. it's kinda bad tbh, so here it is on my newly made trap account. the word tense is all out of damn order throughout this fic, but i don't have the strength to fix it

_ “How do you know when you’ve found ‘em?” _

_ “Well,” She took a breath. “There’s three signs. He’ll come unexpectedly. He’ll always make himself available for you. And… You just know, y’know?” _

_ He wished he did. _

_ “A star prince,” He repeated to her. “You think there's one out there for me?” _

_ She looked at him, then smiled. “Of course there is.” _

_ And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to find his too. Find someone who was made for him from the heavens. His very own star prince. _

* * *

For some reason, that memory crept back into his head. He wasn't sure why, it was so fucking random. He couldn’t remember that day very well, but he wanted to. He wished he could.

She’d told him what she wanted in life. That she wanted to find her star prince. She explained it to him. “Someone that’s made specifically for you. Destined for you and only you.”

Eita had never been a hopeless romantic like his sister, but hearing about the stars and heavens arranging someone just for him… Well, it was extremely intriguing.

“Eita-chan.”

Eita pulled an earbud out, but didn't move. Typically, if he ignored her long enough she’d leave him alone. His schoolwork was more important than helping his mom with her multitude of miscellaneous tasks that could easily be performed by a single person.

“Eita.”

Apparently, today wasn't one of those days. Before he could turn up his music to drown her out, she called a final time, signifying her urgency.

“Eita, right now!”

Eita sighed, tossing his phone aside, dragging himself from his chair, down the hall to the family room.

“Yeah?” He only stuck his head in. He knew that if he went in fully, she’d keep him there.

His mother was a tall, slender woman with short, spiky silver hair and piercing blue eyes. She could be downright frightening if she wanted to, which was often. “Come,” She waved him over.

Eita weighed his chances. Stay where he was and quite possibly take a shoe, book, or whatever was around to the head or go to her and never make it back to his room, to his safe haven. Eita valued his life a  _ little _ more than going to his room.

He was surprised to find Takara, his sister, sitting there beside his mother, both smiling happily. Eita had to do a double-take, just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks.

He blinked. And she was still there.  _ Takara.  _ In the flesh. His stomach did a flip-flop, what for, he wasn't sure. It was just his sister. His  _ estranged  _ sister.

“Well,” Takara stood, arms open wide. “Aren't you gonna give your nee-chan a hug?”

He didn't want to, but he did. She would've thrown a tantrum if he didn't. Eita got a good look at her when he reluctantly came over. Her chestnut hair had grown into some sort of fringe-bang kinda thing that didn’t really suit her face shape. The same bright eyes his mother had were staring back at him as she held him at an arm’s length.

“I haven't seen you in so long.”

“And who's fault is that?” Eita wanted to say, but he grunted instead. Plus, she was exaggerating. He'd seen her during the holidays. She knew how to stretch the truth.

He knew he should’ve been at least happy to see his sister, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel it. He loved his sister, and deep down he was glad that she was safe, but… It was getting old.

“So, I'm guessing you wanna know why I'm here.”

Yes, honestly. Besides disturbing the peace.

“Well…” She gave a devilish grin. “I'm engaged!” She flashed her left hand, sure enough, on her little fourth finger, there was a ring. (Not a very big one, at that.)

Eita tried to be shocked, he really did, but it truly hadn't shocked him. She was that decipherable. He'd compiled a list in his head of reasons for her appearance in the short time he'd been there.

“Great?”

Takara’s face fell. No sooner than that happened, a sharp blow hit Eita’s shoulder. (She always had a great right hook.) “Really?”

He rubbed his arm. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno, maybe a ‘Congrats nee-chan, I’m so happy for you’!”

He really wasn’t, which was a little discourteous, but he faked a smile and said, “Great job on getting hitched.”

“God, that sounds terrible, never say that again.”

Eita frowned and leaned against the wall as Takara plopped back down on the couch. She picked up a cup of tea, sipping quietly. “His name’s Sora,” She smiled. “Hino Sora.”

Eita cringed. He hoped she wouldn’t take his name. Hino Takara didn’t sound that appealing. (Neither did Semi Takara, but naming her that was his mother’s decision.)

“We’re going to elope.”

As soon as she said it, Eita knew she was a dead person.

“No,” His mom spoke up. “Absolutely not.”

Takara got that look in her eye, a sign she was about to use her siren-like diction to get what she wanted.

That was the thing about her. She was quick-witted, smart at the mouth with a tongue so sharp that it'd scar if you weren't careful. But she had this way of making it sound like you should be  _ honored _ to give in to her. Eita had seen her at work many times, and remembered the countless number of victims she’d swindled. He couldn't believe his mom would be next.

“We don't want to deal with the hassle of a wedding. Just think of how much it’d burden you, kaa-san.”

“You’re my child, how in the world are you burdening me?”

Eita definitely hadn’t expected her to challenge Takara. It just got interesting.

Takara hadn’t either, she was speechless. “Mother, I—”

“You just show up out of the blue and think I’m supposed to go along with it? Takara, I’d expect that from Eita, but not you.”

Eita stared at his mother. She ignored him.

“Mom,” Takara tried.

“I don’t even know him or his family. You can’t be serious about this.”

“I am,” Her voice was rigid. “I think I’m old enough to decide for myself right now, I’ve done it every day for a while now.”

Eita couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Takara was treading on  _ very _ thin ice. He wouldn’t even try that tone on his worst day.

“You're my only daughter. You're having a wedding.”

And that was law.

… 

Gifted. That's what they said Takara was. She tested out of her third year of high school and was offered a position at a school abroad. She was only four years older than Eita, and had accomplished more than he did in his lifetime in three years overseas.

It was all unconventional; both Takara’s education abroad and them having not even met the man she wanted to marry, but so was their family. Poppa Semi died in a boating accident when Eita was barely three, and their mother never remarried. When Eita asked why, she told him she didn’t want to be married again. Simple as that.

His mother got stricter afterwards. (Their dad was the more lenient of the two.) Eita always thought it was because she liked making them miserable, but as he got older, he realized she was the way she was because she didn’t have anyone else to help her. Ojii-san was gone too, and Eita never knew his baa-chan. Luckily, their mom didn’t have to work  _ that _ much, the life-insurance policy was hefty. Of course, it wouldn’t last forever.

But sending Takara halfway across the world was the most merciful thing she’d done in forever. And she hadn’t brought the hammer down on Takara like Eita expected her to do when they got the news.

He expected his mother to give her the ol’ “You're going away to learn, not to get pregnant” spiel, but she always had a (somewhat) soft spot for Takara. Especially when she did something out of the blue like showing up suddenly. Don't get him wrong, his mother loved them both dearly, but she tended to be more lenient with Takara.

Case and point: housing. Takara lived in London in an apartment with several roommates (who were bilingual, dear God), free to do whatever she pleased. Meanwhile, Eita couldn't even stay at Shiratorizawa. Takara’s accomplishments always seemed to outshine his. His mother hadn’t even been that excited when he was accepted into Shiratorizawa. (She expected an academic scholarship.)

It didn't bother Eita (as much as it used too), frankly, he liked not having attention on him. But as of now, that wasn't the case.

“Eita, come help me pick out colors.”

Eita raised an eyebrow. “What.”

“Dress colors for the bridesmaids.” She looked over her shoulder, pushing up her glasses in the process. She rarely wore them, and when she did, Eita swore she was a different person. Close friends and family were the only ones she ever let see her in them, she hated them that much.

Eita couldn't believe how fast Takara and his mom were putting together a wedding. She got home Friday, it was Sunday now, and they'd already decided on a venue (their backyard), caterers (themselves, of course), and secured an officiating pastor, now onto the wardrobe. Takara tended to rush into situations rather rashly, and at the rate she was throwing this shit together, Eita could only imagine how half-assed this wedding was going to be.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I'm not good with… colors.” Eita worded it lightly, very much unlike Satori. (He was still salty about Satori’s rude comment.)

“Well, neither am I. That's why I need your help.”

“It’s not like I'm going to be in it.”

Takara smiled to herself, then looked away. Eita knew that look all too well.

“Takara.”

“Hm?” She purposefully avoided eye contact.

“I’m not in the wedding, _ right?” _

“Well,” She paused. “I told Sora that I wanted you to be one of the groomsmen.”

Eita’s stomach dropped. Takara was always relentlessly searching for ways to involve him, which was nice at times, but annoying too. He wanted nothing to do with her wedding, yet and still, he was being forced into it.

“But, I don't even know him.”

“I know, but we’re short a few guys, and it'd be really great if you could do it. Pretty please?” She grinned real big.

“No.”

Takara frowned. “Can you at least find a date?”

Yeesh. That'd be hard, but not impossible. And it'd be better than being in the wedding.

“Alright.”

“Great. Now, help me with the dresses.”

* * *

“Oi! Hurry up, Goshiki, or you won’t get anything to eat! I ain’t waiting all day.” Hayato stood, hands on his hips, bag slung over his shoulder haphazardly.

“I’m coming!” The first-year scuttled out of the club room, hair completely disheveled, shoes still in hand. “Wait!”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Kenjirou told him with a scowl. “Put your shoes on.”

“Oh-oh-okay.” His breathlessness drew a laugh or two from the group as he stooped to pull on his sneakers.

Taichi slipped from the room much more discreetly, going to Wakatoshi. “Ushiwaka-san, we’re finished.”

The captain swooped in to lock the door.

“Why do you torment him so much?” Reon asked the libero, referring to Tsutomu. “Kawanishi was the last one out.”

“S’not like I try to, I mean, he falls for it every time. It just doesn't work with Taichi.”

The aforementioned middle blocker passed by, then stopped abruptly before pointing down at Tsutomu’s shoes. “They’re on the wrong feet.”

“Darn,” Tsutomu said.

“I’m hungry!” Satori whined. “Let’s go!” He draped an arm over Hayato’s shoulder.

“Alright, alright.”

Satori and Hayato started off, Tsutomu took notice and sped through tying his shoes, in fear of being left. (They'd no doubt come loose after a few steps.) When he comes up, that cowlick is even more noticeable.

“Come here.” Eita signaled him over with a finger, and the taller boy squatted a little. Eita ran his fingers through his dark hair until it was at least going in that same direction.

“Thanks, Semi-san,” He sped off to catch up with his impatient senpai.

From some fluke long ago, they now went to the local pastry shop every Monday after practice. They took turns paying due to a long-lost bet that’d come and gone. This week was Hayato’s, and he took pride in rushing Tsutomu, threatening to leave the poor child behind, even though he always paid for Tsutomu’s order first.

Eita looked forward to Mondays more than anything. It wasn't just the fact of coming back to school after two days away (yes, he was one of the sick souls who enjoyed going to school), it was those snack runs, practice itself, anytime he spent with the team in general. He felt like a completely different person when he was around his teammates, people he felt more connected with than his own family. When he was home, he missed them. All of them. (Well, mostly all of them.)

The processional, as he liked to call it, began. Tsutomu in the lead with Hayato, Kenjirou and Taichi behind them talking about God knows what, Satori and Wakatoshi next. Eita fell in with Reon as he often did at the rear to catch any loose stragglers. He had different things to talk about with them, utter stupidity with Satori, maybe an argument or two with Kenjirou, but with Reon, he talked about himself, which was something he hardly did at home.

He felt close to all of his teammates, but slightly closer to Satori, his friend since middle school, and Reon, the first friend he made coming into high school. He was his bud, his pal, someone who could read him like an open book. Except the fact that he’d always had a slight  _ (slight) _ crush on him.

Eita hadn’t known about it himself until recently when he found himself thinking longingly about a certain wing spiker during class. It wasn’t exactly a shocking discovery, just “Oh, I have a new crush,” and that was it. Simple. The way he liked things.

“So,” Reon nudged him with his shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hm? Oh, my sister’s getting married.” He replied second nature, which was always the way it was with Reon. He found himself saying things he wouldn’t dare to say around anyone else.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she just popped up all of the sudden this weekend ‘n told us.” He shook his head, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “You shoulda seen the look on my mom’s face when she suggested eloping.”

Reon smiled, Eita got that familiar feeling in his chest, that gentle tugging at his heart like he was slowly being ripped apart from the inside out. It was a violent description for such a (mostly) pleasant experience.

“So, she’s planning a wedding?”

“Yep,” Eita responded, and that question, that one, oh-so simple question was on the tip of his tongue.

_ “Do you wanna go with me?” _

He got flustered just thinking of asking him.

“Semi!” A voice broke his concentration. He looked up as Tsutomu appeared before him, looking slightly agitated. “Tendou-san says I have bangs like Dora the Explorer!”

Eita himself smiled at that. His hair did bear a faint resemblance to said cartoon character.

“You don't,” Reon tells Tsutomu. “They look fine.”

“Tell him he looks like Ronald McDonald.” Eita replied, quite proud of his comeback that he'd made off the top of his head. Clearly, he was dealing with a gentler soul and couldn't use a certain word or two he would've rather used.

“Okay!” Tsutomu nodded, turning and taking off, Reon chuckled aloud. Eita’s heart pumped even louder.

There was a beat of silence, and it came to Eita that this was his chance. His chance to ask. He could do it. Just. Ask. Him. And Reon’d accept because he was his friend.  _ Friend. _ God, he couldn’t do it. He was wuss.

But, Reon turned to him, saying, “You look like you want to ask something.”

He hated that he wore his distress on his face. Well. Better now than never.

“Well… thing is I’ve gotta find a d—” He stopped himself. “Someone to bring with me to the wedding… Will you come?”

Reon looked at him, somewhat blankly, and Eita felt all of the humiliation coming on him at once. He’d just made things weird. They'd never be the same.

He glanced down. “S’fine if you can’t, I’ll ask Sato—”

“Eita, of course I’ll go.”

Eita’s gaze returned up to Reon’s grinning face. He looked happy. Like  _ way  _ happy.

“I’m just surprised you asked me first.”

Really?

“Not to brag, but you’re the sanest in the bunch.”

They chatted on about it, and Eita realized how much he didn’t actually know about the wedding. When it occurred, what to wear or bring.

Eita told him, “I’ll text you the deets.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly, there was a shrill laugh, followed by a grunt. Eita watched Wakatoshi sprint off, Satori on his back, head thrown back in a laugh.  _ “Vámonos, _ Dora! Try and catch me now!”

“We can’t let them win!” Tsutomu appeared the most upset.

“You’re right,” Hayato mused. “We can’t. Taichi! You know what to do.”

Taichi, seeming to know exactly what to do, nodded and hunkered down on the third-year’s back. His legs were almost to the ground even suspended on Hayato’s back. Still, Hayato was surprisingly speedy.

Tsutomu bounced on his feet, giving Kenjirou a look.

“Don’t even think about it.” The setter walked off.

Tsutomu whined, Reon laughed softly, then stepped forward, squatting slightly. Tsutomu gasped, then hopped on with a grin.

“Go, go, go!” He pumped a fist in the air.

Eita smiled as Reon slowly started on.

… 

Eita’s good mood from earlier is shattered when he gets home and finds a stranger at the kitchen table, reading the evening paper. He stopped in his tracks, confused and very much ready to attack, then he realized it had to be Sora.

From what Eita could see, he looked to be short with a kinda chunky build, wide brown eyes, and a cleft chin. His hair was a warm brown hue, wispy and a little disheveled, falling on his forehead in soft ringlets.

Eita stared for a moment, then blinked and turned to walk away before he was noticed. Sadly mistaken, was he.

“Eita?” It was Takara’s voice.

Damn. Eita swore under his breath. He turned slowly like someone caught in a robbery, only his hands were clenched at his sides in tight fists.

“Come meet Sora.” Takara stood behind Sora, and gestured for him to come.

Eita did, albeit very sluggishly. He didn’t sit down, just leaned his hip against the counter.

Once they saw that he wasn’t going any further, Sora cleared his throat and gave a crooked grin. “Hiya, Eita. Nice to meet ya.”

Eita fights to hold in a grimace because this dude sounds like a fucking goof, and  _ God, _ does he want to tell him that, but Eita also doesn’t want to get knocked upside the head by his sister.

“Um, hi.”

“Been at practice? You play volleyball, right? Takara says you’re really good.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’d like to see you play. Maybe I’ll catch a game one day.”

Eita gave Takara a look. She just grinned, flouncing forward and sitting next to Sora.

“C’mere, c’mere.” She waved him over. “Let’s talk.”

At times, Eita hated socializing with unnecessarily peppy people. It was exhausting. (The only reason why he got along with Satori was because he could tell him to shut the hell up, and he’d eventually do it.) But he sits because Takara’s the perfect little angel who deserves whatever she wants, and who’s Eita not to give it to her?

Takara guided them (Eita mostly) through the conversation at first, but soon left for something or another, and Eita wished she hadn't because with her gone, Sora had to make up for twice the conversation, meaning the guy’s gums never stopped flapping.

From a few moments talking to him (listening rather), Eita figured out he liked animals, his favorite color was green, he liked fish and chips (whatever that was), and was majoring in astronomy.

He had everything figured out, exactly what he and Takara were going to do after the wedding, and Eita couldn’t help but get jealous, because he barely even knew what the fuck he wanted to do after high school, let alone his life.

So, Eita did what he did best. He got upset.

He often got angry with things he didn't understand, which was kinda ignorant, but Eita didn't really care at that point, he'd been clueless all his life. He couldn't understand how two people who were barely adults had their shit together more than he’d ever had. He couldn't understand why Sora was being so nice to him. Was it just to make Takara happy? Was he genuinely seeking to form a bond with him? Eita didn't know. He didn't know anything as of now. He just wanted to be alone, wanted to be away from perfect Sora, away from everything. And being as stupid as he was, Eita figured the only way to leave was to make Sora mad.

He really tried to annoy Sora (interrupted him, asked stupid questions, the whole kit and caboodle), but nothing worked, he was that nice. He thought Eita’s attempt to be rude was funny. So nice that he wanted Eita to be one of his three groomsmen.

Eita was in a state of shock. He wanted to get  _ away  _ from them, not go towards them. It was like he stuck his own foot in his mouth.

“Can you do it for me, Eita?” Sora asks. “ _ Please _ .”

Eita can't believe how weak he is, he accepts the role, along with an unwanted hug from Sora. He can't imagine having to spend a whole week around this guy, this happy, jovial person, but Sora tells him he has to go to Tokyo, where his family lived, to inform them of his engagement and get some things in order. He’d be back for the rehearsal dinner.

Eita almost falls to his knees in joy.

Sora goes upstairs to get his things and Takara comes back in, smile twitching at her lips.

“Eita-kun! What’d you think of him?”

He wasn't a bad guy, Eita thought. Kinda air-headed, but sweet. “He's okay.”

“Are you in the wedding?”

Eita scowls. “You put him up to it?”

“I just told him I'd like it a lot, but it was his final decision whether to do it or not.”

Eita can't even find the words for how utterly stupid his sister sounded right now.

“You must've made a good impression!” She gently punches his shoulder. “Look at you, you're a people pleaser.”

And at that moment, Eita realized he was indeed a people pleaser.

* * *

“Eita,” Satori sat down beside Reon, across from Eita. He was visibly furious, his plate clattered as it hit the table. His pierced eyebrow raised unnaturally high, lips a thin line. Even the perpetual bandage over the bridge of his nose was particularly intimidating. (Flying objects were drawn to it. Eita couldn't remember how many times Satori’d been asked if he had a bad nose job.)

“Hm?” Eita looked up from his phone, and wished he hadn’t. He could tell Satori was pissed just from his expression, but also the fact that he’d used just his given name, which he only did when he was peeved. Shit. What’d he do now? He pocketed his phone, preparing for the worse.

“Takara-kun’s getting married?”

He wasn’t surprised that he’d figured it out. Satori had the innate ability to know literally everything about everyone even if he hadn’t heard it directly from the person it was pertaining to.

Eita gave him a look. “Yeah?”

“Well? You weren’t gonna tell?”

He didn’t realize it was such a big deal.

“Ooh, weddings,” Hayato chewed a candy bar. “I’m down.” The third-years stared at the libero. He shrugged. “Free food  _ and _ drama? What’s better?”

Satori’s lip curled upwards disgustedly. “Don’t taint the sanctity of marriage.”

“Hm, whatever.”

Eita turned back to Satori. “Who told you, anyway?”

“I’d prefer not to reveal my sources.”

That was the thing. He’d figure shit out like fucking Sherlock Holmes and then wouldn’t tell how he did it. It was fricking irritating.

“Actually,” Reon spoke up. He looked particularly glum. “I told Wakatoshi. I didn’t know it was confidential, I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” He felt like a total ass. “It’s fine.” Eita looked to his right at the ace who sat silently. He would’ve expected such from Hayato or some other weak-willed person, but Wakatoshi? No.

The ace cleared his throat, saying, “I apologize. Tendou was very persuasive.”

Well. There was a first for everything.

“What, did he have dirt on you, or somethin’?” Hayato smirked.

Wakatoshi sat silently, which Eita took as a firm yes.

“Well,” The setter breathed. “I’m in the wedding now, which is some bullshit.”

“What?” Satori shrieked. “Not fair!”

Wakatoshi murmured something about it being an honor, Eita wanted to vomit. An honor, his ass.

Hayato looked puzzled. “You don’t want free food?”

“Eita,” Reon asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” He bit into a nail. “It’s so sudden, and I don’t really know him like that, so… I dunno, I guess I’m not comfortable.”

“I can still go with you if it helps,” Reon offered. “To the rehears—”

“And another thing,” Satori punctuates with a jab of his chopsticks. “Why’d you pick  _ Benkei _ here, and not m—”

Reon placed a hand over the talkative redhead’s mouth before he went off on a tangent. “It’s not a problem. Only if you want me to.”

Of course, he did. He’d never say no to Reon. “Yeah, please,” Then he blushed.

“Aw, so fricking sweet,” Hayato gave a sinister smile. “Sweeter than this  _ Twix. _ I could bottle all this up and bake a fucking cake with it.”

“Yeah, it’s sweet, whatever,” Satori waved the thought away. “Eita, wanna tell me why you’re screwing up your nails?”

Eita blanked for a second, then jerked his finger from his mouth, instead jamming his hands into his coat pockets. Biting his nails was a habit that he picked up along the way to cope with stress. At least he wasn’t drinking or doing drugs.

“They were s’posed to last a couple more days!”

Eita mumbled, “It started cracking a few days ago, anyway.”

“Now, you insult my work?”

“Please,” Hayato said. “That is not  _ work. _ It’s a mild form of torture.”

To put it lightly, Hayato was not a fan of Satori’s trade. Eita often forgot that Hayato was Satori’s roomie since he spent so little time in the room because he despised the scent of nail care products. Currently, the libero spent most days after practice in Kenjirou and Taichi’s bunk or annoying the crap out of Reon and Wakatoshi in their room, all because he did not want to go to his own and put his poor sinuses at risk.

(Just one whiff of the chemicals set Hayato off on a fit of coughs, sneezes, or choking all together. Eita had witnessed it firsthand before. He had to say, it was not pretty. Of course, it wasn't as bad as Taichi and cat dander, thank  _ God.) _

Satori just narrowed his eyes (they were literal slits), and pushed his plate aside.

He reached a spindly arm to his side, picking up his sack, setting the bright blue bag on the table. From it, he extracted at least ten bottles of nail polish, all different colors, along with a file, clippers, and cuticle cutters. They’re items Eita knew well from his visits to Satori’s dorm every week or two, of course, he never transported them like he had now. Eita wondered when Satori decided to take his gig on the road.

Wakatoshi asked, “Where are your books?”

“That’s not important right now,” Satori waved the inquisitive individual away. “This is an emergency.”

Eita never knew chipped nail polish constituted an emergency.

So instead of actually eating at _ lunch, _ Eita was roped into getting his nails re-polished. Reon, Wakatoshi and Hayato watched as Satori griped and complained about Eita’s cuticles and nail beds. Eita’s heard the whole “Take care of your cuticles” spiel only every time he gets Satori to paint his nails. It doesn’t bother him anymore. Just like the weird looks he often got from random people when he admired his new coat of polish don’t bother him.

The next few minutes consist of Satori picking off the rest of the fragmented polish and evening Eita’s nubby nails with a file. Though lunch was only forty minutes or so, Eita knew Satori could get it done. He’d seen him finish in less than thirty-five, and that was base coat, color,  _ and  _ top coat. The dude was a pro.

A small dispute erupted when the dust from the filing attacked Hayato’s frail nose.

“Hey,” Hayato said, sounding congested. “Stop sendin’ that  _ sawdust _ this way. That-a-way, please.” He directed to the right with a mere flap of his hand.

“Sorry.” Satori smiled graciously before taking a big breath and blowing the dust in Hayato’s direction.

Thanks to his quick reactions, Hayato ducked down before the swarm of shavings assaulted him. Satori had finished the base coat when Hayato spoke again. “This shit’s messing with my sinuses.”

“We’ve established that.” Satori rolled the black polish bottle between his palms.

“I have some tissue in my bag,” Reon said, but Eita wasn’t sure that’d help. Hayato sounded (and looked) like he needed a fucking allergy shot.

“Nah,” Hayato stood. “I’m gonna go. Hope this jackass doesn’t poison or suffocate y’all with the fumes.”

Satori didn’t even look up. “Goodbye, Hayato, your negativity is not welcome here.”

The libero clucked his tongue, then grabbed his bag and walked off.

Satori was moving so fast, next thing Eita knew, he was applying the top coat.

“What does that do?” Wakatoshi asked. He was unusually close, despite Reon’s warnings to stay back from the fumes. Satori explained the concept of a top coat, how it strengthened the nail and allowed the color to stay on longer without chipping. Wakatoshi nodded, seeming truthfully interested. “Mhm. I see.”

Reon laughed to himself, and Eita looked up, hoping to catch a glance of the beautiful face Reon made when he laughed. Sometimes, his eyes would close, and his nose would wrinkle a little, his mouth open slightly, highlighting the trail of freckles from the corner of his lips to his cheekbones. It was adorable.

“Stop moving!” Satori squawked. Eita’s posture went rigid. He didn’t even know he was moving. He focused on Satori’s hand, lithe and nimble as it cleaned up around the edges. His hands were bruised and battered, cuts and scrapes all across his knuckles. Despite the despicable condition, Satori’s nails were immaculate. A shiny navy blue hue. “Finished! Oh, wait,” Then, as if he couldn’t be even more obvious, he pulled an aerosol can from his sack and sprayed Eita’s fingers. “Now, I’m finished.”

Eita can’t bring himself to be embarrassed, he’s too enraptured by how great his hands look. Satori never failed. Then, he’s a little peeved because the wench slipped on a thin coat of glitter when he wasn’t looking and he specifically said no additives. But it looks all the more alluring. Shimmery, but not too flashy.

They all fawn over his nails; Satori more so admiring his masterpiece, Reon complimenting them, calling it wedding prep, and Wakotshi simply liking the color and sparkly appearance. Satori offered to do theirs (Hayato would probably flip), to which Wakatoshi looked hopeful, and Reon laughed saying, “No indeed.” (Eita made a note to himself to convince Reon otherwise.)

Eita knows this is something that he can only do with them. A piece of himself that he only shared with the team. Even his mother never fully understood him. She finally noticed it a while after he’d started wearing it, and only gave him a confused look before continuing on her way. She never spoke of it, but on rare occasions he’d catch her eyeing his fingers when she thought he wasn’t looking. He probably should have been glad she didn’t say anything, but still. He would’ve appreciated an actual attempt to try and understand.

“And if anyone has anything to say,” Satori told him, fanning his nails with a magazine. “Let me know, and I’ll pummel ‘em. Hayato included.”

There was a chirp of agreement from Wakatoshi and Reon, though Reon opted for a firm talking-to rather than violence. Eita couldn’t help but smile. He had back-up. The entire volleyball club.

… 

After practice, Eita checked his phone, finding a text from his sister from which he learned there was a quote, “Mandatory rehearsal for the wedding party and there would be  _ severe consequences for failure to attend.” _ Takara the tyrant was back. Old habits died hard.

He told Reon, and to no surprise, he agreed to come.

“You just can’t say no, can you?”

“Yep.” Reon grinned. Eita was grateful that he couldn’t because where else would he be now? (And it’s not like he’d ever tell Reon no either.)

Reon gave Wakatoshi his duffle bag, Eita told the others good night, and together, they started on the commute, making small talk about varying topics. It has Eita’s stomach in a bind. His house was a good twenty minutes away from the school, meaning he had to wrestle with his body the entire time.

Eita tells Reon, “Make sure to leave before curfew, ‘kay?”

“Isn’t it rude to leave before you’re dismissed?”

Eita admired his politeness, something that he just didn’t have at times. “Do you wanna wind up in the headmaster’s office for truancy?”

Reon chuckled, the knot in Eita’s tummy tightened. He chewed the inside of his mouth, instinctively. Dear God, he was pitiful. Getting butterflies in his stomach just from hearing Reon laugh. (Of course, Reon’s laugh was _ amazing, _ low and rumbling with just the right bounce to it.) Eita readjusted his grip on his gym bag. He had to stay focused. Reon was just coming for support. That was it.

When Eita looked up again, Reon was suddenly staring at him intently. “Need me to hold one?”

What? What could he possibly mean? Eita thought for a sec, the only plausible solution he came up with was his hand. Eita almost lost his balance there because Reon was actually making a move. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to hold his hand, sweet Jesus.

“Um,” Eita flushed, and Reon just looked at him, unknowing of the inner turmoil he was causing him. “My hands are full, bu—”

“I know,” Reon gave a laugh. “That's why I asked if you wanted me to carry one.”

The bag.

Eita’s enthusiasm deflated like a balloon as he handed one of his bags over. He couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

They walked a few more steps, Reon in an aloof happiness, Eita slightly disappointed in himself. Of course, Reon wouldn’t have made the first move. He was too much of a gentleman for that. Curse his chivalry.

Reon remarked, “Satori seemed pretty upset about not being invited.”

“He’ll be alright, I mean, he’s already got a donation drive together for a wedding gift, so I doubt he’s too torn up about it. He’ll probably show up to the wedding, anyway.”

In the short time between lunch and practice, Tendou Satori had organized a pool between members of the volleyball club for Takara’s wedding gift. Before Eita left, there was almost three-thousand yen in the chip can that it was being stored in. Eita had never seen anything like it.

A few minutes later, they rounded the corner onto Eita’s street, his house sat at the end of the way, slightly secluded from the others. It was fairly ordinary. The only distinguishing characteristic was the huge sakura tree in the yard. The house itself was glowing from both the porch lights and indoor lights. Eita could hear the chatter from outside. A shriek arose from the murmur. Eita cringed.

“I'm sorry in advance for my family.” He gave Reon an apologetic look as they started up the steps.

Reon just beamed. “I’m sure they aren’t that bad.”

He had no idea.

When Eita opened the door, a flood of scents attacked his nose. Various foods, perfume, and something else particularly tangy. Just too much concentrated in one area. Holding his breath, he dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, Reon doing the same, then they went into the living room.

“Eita!” Takara called as soon as he stepped into the room. “We've been waiting for you!” She smiled brightly, eyes wide with excitement. In her hand was a slim wineglass. Where alcohol was involved, disaster followed.

With her sudden announcement, every eye in the room was on him. His mother and five other people who he guessed were the wedding party.

“Everyone, this is my otouto,” She gestured to him like he was an item on display. Then her eyes landed on Reon. “Eita, who's this?”

“A friend from school.” Best to be vague as possible.

“What's your name?” She stepped forward, nudging Eita aside. He grimaced.

“Oohira Reon.” He bowed. “Takara-san, right? Just like Eita described.”

Reon was laying on the flattery. Eita just hoped that Reon wouldn’t mention the  _ less flattering _ aspects of his sister he’d told him about.

“Good things, I hope.” Her eyebrow rose questioningly.

“Nothing but good.”

And she broke out into a grin. “He’s a real riot! Eita, you should bring your friends home more often.”

“If you were ever home,” Eita thought.

“Oohira-kun, di—”

“Reon’s fine.”

“Reon-kun,” She smiled. “Did my brother ask you to come with him?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Eita knew that she was trying to feel Reon out, trying to determine whether he was a friend or a  _ friend. _ Eita wanted to die. Takara tended to overwhelm people with the questions she asked, but Reon seemed to be handling it perfectly fine.

“I offered to come.” Reon explained.

“Oh, really now.”

Eita wasn’t sure if it was a sincere ‘oh, really now’ or a ‘what-other-lies-are-you-telling-me oh, really now’. He concludes it has to be the first, because Reon has a full exchange with her. An unnecessarily long conversation about practically nothing. Eita eventually gets tired of standing and walks off, pulling a stool from the bar, leaning his elbows back on the counter. He observes from afar, hoping that his sister wasn’t annoying Reon too much. (Like she was annoying him now.)

“Haven’t seen him in a while,” His mother murmurs, catching him by surprise. He barely contains a yelp. He could never get away with anything as a kid, his mom would silently creep up on him and put a stop to whatever deed he was concocting. He was a sheltered child.

Eita glanced over at her, following her gaze. “Reon?”

“Mhm,” She nodded then tilted her head to the side, blowing out a sigh. “I couldn't tell her no.” She leaned on the counter.

It was hard to keep up with his mother in conversations. Her train of thought was unnervingly fast, spending barely a second on each statement. Eita’s best guess of what she was talking about was Takara.

She gave another sigh, her eyes falling shut. In that moment, Eita took notice of the wrinkles forming around her eyes and on her forehead, the greying of her hair, the bags under her eyes. She looked… tired and helpless. Just as quickly as that expression had appeared, it dissipated once she opened her eyes. “He's a nice boy. She knew him prior to leaving. It isn’t like she just met him.”

“But, it  _ is _ abrupt, isn’t it?” He couldn’t help his mouth sometimes. “I mean, can she even afford it?”

“Your sister is rather clever, Eita. Don’t doubt her abilities.”

He didn’t, not by a long shot, which was why he was asking if she had stooped low enough to ask their mother to pay for all of the wedding.

“As for being abrupt… It certainly is, but so was her arrival. She only has one more semester before she graduates, so I’m not sure why this couldn’t wait. However, it is her intuition that this is in the best favor for her.” She paused. “Who am I not to let her live her life?”

Eita wanted to scream. The amount of shit Takara got away with was indescribable. Eita could count his freedoms on his fricking hand, Takara’s were some unfathomable amount that couldn’t even be calculated. She was living her life, no one was stopping her, hell, she’d probably travel the globe when she was finished with school. And Eita would be stuck where he began.

“That’s a nice shade,” His mother says, nodding to his fingers. “Very… practical.”

He feels uneasy, the fact that she paid attention to what she wanted, but ignored the things she didn’t want to deal with. He supposed he should have felt happy, but he didn’t. He was unsure. This was new territory, actually talking with his mom about something he enjoyed other than volleyball. It was foreign… And he didn’t like it not one bit. He needed a way to escape.

His gaze drifted to the clock on the far wall. It read seven-eighteen PM. He knew that curfew was nine on weekdays. It’d take twenty minutes or so for Reon to get back. They needed to get started. But his sister was in an in-depth conversation with Reon and one of the other guys. She didn’t show any signs of stopping.

Eita clears his throat, “Shouldn’t we stop her?”

“Oh. Yes.” His mother starts off. That was one thing they could agree on. They were both impatient and hated sitting still pointlessly.

She gently taps Takara on the shoulder. Eita can’t tell what she’s saying, but whatever it was seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, goodness,” Takara voiced, studying her watch. “I've been running my mouth, haven't I?”

More like her mouth running her.

She gives Reon, the guy, and his mother a smile before heading to the center of the room.

“This won’t be a big wedding, just close friends and family. As such, I’ll only need funds for dresses. And of course the bridal party.”

Eita picks up a spring roll, and zones out there, the conversation coming in small bursts.

“The dresses are pastel blue, so guys, wear a pastel tie… No coats. Just dress shirts and slacks… Oh, and ladies, if you'll let me know your sizes, that'd be great.”

Ah, the dresses. He and Takara decided on blue after debating for a while. (Their mother actually had the final vote.) Takara’s own dress was white with a blue midriff and an A-line split. (He didn’t even know what that was until Takara explained it to him.)

“We've tentatively got the date set for this Sunday.”

Eyes widened all throughout the room.

“Takara,” His mother looks unnerved, though the others probably wouldn't have even noticed it. Only a true expert in her mannerisms would have.

“I know, it seems so abrupt,” She grins really wide. Eita can tell it’s a ploy to get them to agree. “But, I know we can do it if we all pull our weight!”

Eita was pulling no one’s weight, it was hard enough pulling his own.

Reon’s now talking with his mother. He forgot they’d met several occasions after their away games, the few times she actually came to cheer him on. A rare smile is on her face.

He vaguely hears that such-and-such is the maid of honor and so-and-so is the best man. The studious looking girl with thick frames, and the tall guy who looks sloppily put together. Eita could tell dysfunction from that pair, and wondered if they were even trying to match based on personality. They were doing the best they could with only three for each gender.

“Eita, looks like Emiko’s your partner!”

Eita looks up as an energetic blond bounded forward. Eita wanted to flee. She looked… bright. And overzealous. Two things that did not belong together. Her eyes were a warm brown, round and doe-eyed. She had slim lips, a button nose, all baby-faced features that gave him the impression that she was younger than him. But her buxom figure suggested otherwise.

“Hi, I’m Emiko. I’m so relieved I’m paired with you. The other fellows here look kinda weird. You’re the best-looking guy here!”

He couldn’t find it in him to be flattered. How dense was this girl, and where did she find his sister? He’d have to give Takara a piece of his mind later on.

“Um, okay?”

She giggles into her hand. “You’re funny!”

Eita could not for the life of him figure out what was funny about what he’d just said.

“Um, excuse me for a moment.”

“Okay!”

He practically sprints away only to bump into someone’s side.

“Excuse me, oh, Reon. I’m sorry about my sister.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Reon-kun!” Takara calls. “Since Eita went through the trouble of asking you and all, would you like to be the usher?”

Eita’s cheeks flared. “You can't ask someone who didn’t volunteer to do something for you. He isn’t even your guest.”

“Eita, hush.”

“It's rude.”

Her cheeks puffed out angrily. “I am  _ not  _ rude.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“It's no problem.” Reon voiced. “I’d be happy to do it.”

Takara’s mood changed in an instant. “Oh! Reon-kun, you doll!”

Eita wants to vomit.

“Eita, you should take lessons from Reon on how to be courteous.”


	2. He'll come unexpectedly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eita is a fucking savage and a mood, man

Takara had a meeting planned Thursday. From the time Eita got home from practice, they practiced walking with one another, which Eita failed miserably at. He had his own weird gait and trying to adjust for someone else was horrible. (Not to mention, she was distracting him with her yapping.) It was hotter than hell’s tits, the grass was too long, and the bugs were annoying the shit out of him, if not more than Emiko was. 

And Reon decided to tag along that day, meaning he got to watch Eita’s epic failures firsthand. Him almost falling on his ass, him dragging Emiko behind him like a ragdoll because he was walking too fast, and the dreadful fact that he had to  _ hold her hand.  _ It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was sure she had some good quality about her (whatever that was), but she acted practically gracious to hold his hand. Bleh. 

Takara finally let them break after the third time running through, and Eita crossed to Reon, who was smiling like he'd seen a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. (Eita’s truly confused because surely Reon isn't smiling at him like  _ he’s  _ the pot of gold, right?)

“It's really coming together.” 

“Coming together, _ my ass,” _ Eita hooked a hand on his hip. “How do you hold a rehearsal without the groom  _ and _ the priest?” 

“You know they’re short on time.” 

“And brain cells, apparently.” 

Reon shook his head, a soft smile still on his lips. The evening sun complimented the freckles strewn across his face and neck. Eita couldn't help but stare. Reon’s eyes darted to the side suddenly. “Good evening, Semi-san.” 

Reon never addressed him as Semi, even when they'd first met, so the only other person he could've been talking to was… 

Eita turned, and there was his mother, looking slightly amused and annoyed. 

“Hello, Reon,” She showed her teeth, which quickly faded as she set her sights on her son. “Eita, stop talking about your sister. One day, you'll be in the same position.” 

He didn't hide the automatic eye roll. “Okay, kaa-san.” 

“Your eyes, I swear. They're lovely, yes, but they get you into trouble,” She turned to Reon. “Aren't they divine, Reon-kun?” 

“Yes,” Reon nodded politely, though Eita hoped it was because he honestly meant it. “They really are.” 

Eita blushed. 

“Well,” His mother eyed him for a moment. He didn’t know what to make of it. “I better get to it.” She started off. 

Eita turned to Reon. “You really mean it?” 

“I wouldn't say it if I didn't, Eita.” 

Eita smirked. “So, you would've risked getting cursed out by my mom for telling her ‘No, his eyes are ugly’?” 

Reon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should probably reword that, um… I wouldn't lie to you about something like that. How's that?” 

Eita snorted, his cheeks were still hot. “Better,” He elbowed Reon’s side. “You charmer.” 

“I try.” 

Eita wanted to say something else, something to let Reon know that he wasn't the only one with nice eyes. “You have pretty eyes too.” 

Fuck. He held in a face palm, held in the urge to crawl under a rock for ten years and never come out. He was a third-year in high school, surely he could've come up with a better adjective than ‘pretty’. 

But Reon gave one of those bashful smiles, his eyes going to the ground, lips closed over his teeth loosely so that only his canine is visible. His lips were slightly puffy, not at all chapped, and Eita had never wanted to touch something so bad. He knew he was staring, so he made himself look away. Tone down the gay, Eita. 

“Thank you.” Reon said finally. 

Eita sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to say something, he isn't sure what, but whatever hope he had dies and is ruined by a sharp voice. 

“Eita-kun!” He cringed at the squeaky voice. Emiko. He almost shrugged off the hand that wrapped around his arm. 

Reon gave him an empathetic look as he was whisked off. Eita’s never wanted to scream a swear as much as he does right now. 

They ran through it again, this time stopping where the photographer would be for a picture. Emiko posed, leaning onto him so heavily that Eita was quite sure he'll topple over any minute. The things he did to please his sister. 

They finished soon after, and Takara wanted them all to have dinner together, but Eita will be damned if he has to be trapped with Emiko for another two hours. 

As they were going inside, he went out on a whim, wrapping a finger around Reon’s pinky, pulling him to the side slightly. 

“Hey,” He whispered. “I'm leaving. Come with me?” 

“Sure,” Reon’s response was almost immediate. “But won't your sister be upset?” 

“Let me handle it.” 

He grabbed Reon’s hand, pulling him behind him towards the door. He planned to just disappear and if anyone saw him, make up an excuse. But with the way Reon was dragging his feet, he was sure they'd get caught. 

“And where are you going?” His mom catches them right before his hand touches the doorknob. Shit.

“Just to town. And walking Reon back to school. I’ll be back in an hour.” 

“Forty-five minutes.” She said, then gave Reon’s hand a squeeze and walked off. 

Eita looped his arm through Reon’s and dragged him out of the house before he lost any more time. (And despite Takara’s calls of rehearsing dancing.) Once outside, he sighed, letting go of Reon’s arm reluctantly. 

“Sorry.” 

Reon just smiled. “Talk about an exit.” 

“I still need to get her gift.” He struggled with picking birthday gifts for Takara when he was younger, and he knew that it’d doubled, if not tripled since then. 

“So, will you help me?” 

“Definitely.”

They finally make it into town, passing all of the shops and what not. Eita doesn’t even know where to begin.

“What’n the hell do you get someone for a wedding?” He stares down at his sneakers, dragging his feet, the sound of them scraping the concrete was lulling. 

“Depends. How much do you have on ya?” 

Eita’s mouth was about as dry as his wallet. A mere nine-hundred yen. 

“Not much.” 

“Well, it doesn't matter. It doesn't have to be expensive to be from the heart.” 

Eita feels like Reon is purposefully trying to make him feel good, despite the fact that he was broke as a joke. 

“So would a card be fine?” 

Reon laughs, but Eita meant it with all honesty. He'd be fine spending chump change on a card and keeping the rest for himself. 

“Sure, they're heartfelt, but do you want your sister’s gift from you to be lost in time? Let’s try something a little more…  _ long-lasting.” _

That word sounded like his money going down the drain. 

“Hugs? Hugs are long-lasting, right?” 

Reon smiles. “They are, but let's keep looking.”

They pass a couple more stores and Reon's stomach grumbles quite loudly. Eita feels like an ass. 

“Shit, you're hungry. I'm sorry, we should've stayed.” 

“Don't worry about it,” Reon smiled like he always did before heading into a convenience store, returning with two packs of  _ Skittles. _

They munch on candy, and Eita’s hand brushes Reon’s as they pass various shops. Nothing seemed right, either too expensive or too cheap. He was getting more and more pissed by the minute. A vase seemed too cliché, anything else would seem impersonal. He was at a loss. Then he felt Reon’s hand beside his, weaseling into his own. Surely, he was dreaming? But he glanced down at their intertwined fingers, clear as day before him. 

“You’re tense.” 

“Isn’t exactly a relaxed situation.” 

“Yeah, but you’re blowing it out of proportion.” 

Maybe he was. He couldn’t help it. (But he’s grateful he did, he wouldn’t feel Reon’s hand against his if he hadn’t.) 

They were heading back up the street, Eita’s head hung in shame. What kind of brother was he? He couldn't even get his sister a gift for her wedding. 

“What are some things she likes?” Reon squeezes his hand a little tighter, and Eita’s mind goes numb.

Um, she liked... being in control? No, a tangible item. She liked books, cooking, socializing, anything that allowed her to talk. 

“I, uh, m’not sure. It's been so long, um—” 

He's stopped suddenly. He didn't know anything about her. Couldn't remember anything at all. 

“Don't worry about it.” 

Eita looked up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” He smiled, eyes falling shut. 

Eita’s heart did a little flutter. 

We? Did he mean that? 

“Alright? We’ll think of something, don't stress yourself out, ‘kay?” He ran a thumb over Eita’s knuckles. Eita wanted to faint.

But he nodded. “Let me walk you to school.” 

“You'll miss your curfew,” Reon grinned. “Get home.” He gave his hand a final squeeze then started off towards the school. He threw a “Good Night,” over his shoulder, and Eita stood there for a moment. 

What was he going to do? Not only about Takara’s wedding, but himself and Reon?

* * *

Coach caught wind of the wedding (most likely from Satori), and let practice out early on Friday. The cold-hearted man surprisingly had a soft spot for weddings, and told Eita to tell his sister congrats. He even donated a large sum of money towards the wedding gift.

When Eita gets home, Takara and his mother leave to go pick up the dresses and ties, not before informing Eita to set up the backyard for the ceremony. The yard needed a good cut, not to mention the chairs and tables that needed to be set up. A full day of backbreaking labor. Eita thought they were kidding. 

“I have to do all of this alone?” 

Takara tilted her head to the side. “You don't mind, do you?” 

“Actually, I do.” 

His mother jumped in before an argument broke out. “Why don't you call Reon?” 

Eita’s heart fluttered instinctively, and he hoped his mother couldn't see the faint blush tinting his cheeks. 

“Okay.” 

They left soon after. Eita shot Reon a text, hoping that he wasn't busy, and went to the shed for the lawn mower. It took a good ten minutes, there was so much shit in there that he had to dig just to find the damn gas can for the mower. 

He finally found the mower, and checked his phone while catching his breath. 

Reon hadn't responded. Eita’s heart deflated a little, but he'd already gone through the work of pulling it out, so he filled it with gas and cranked it up. Surprisingly, it still ran. 

Their yard wasn't that big, but it still proved to be a harrowing task as Eita didn't know what the shit he was doing. He wasn't even sure how the grass stayed low, he hadn’t mowed in years and judging by the condition of the mower, neither had his mother. Maybe she paid someone to cut it? 

He eventually fell into a rhythm, pushing and pulling at the right times for the perfect cut. Only the mower was old as shit and he had to drive over the same spot three times for it to even look like the grass was lower. 

Ten minutes later, his shirt was drenched in sweat and only a quarter of the yard was cut. 

“Fuck.” Eita cursed, wondering why Takara couldn't have chosen a cooler month to come home. (Probably just to make him suffer.) He pushed his sweaty bangs off his forehead to no avail, and resulted to whipping his shirt off, using it to wipe his face. He tossed it on the porch near his shoes. (The feeling of dewy, freshly cut grass underneath his feet was like no other.) He got back to mowing. 

Maybe Reon didn’t like him like he thought. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. He’d take that, just having Reon in his life was enough. 

His back was aching, his fingers and arms. It was worse than practice. He’s about to fucking collapse when a voice breaks the silence. 

“Any work left for me?” 

“Holy fuck!” It scares the crap out of him, so much that he almost falls on his ass. (And he's also certain that the whole neighborhood heard him say fuck.) 

His heart is beating out of his chest because here's  _ Reon  _ who makes his heart beat faster anytime he's near him, and also because he honestly and truthfully was startled. 

Eita can hardly catch his breath. And Reon? The bastard just laughs. 

_ “Not _ funny.” Eita manages. 

“It is.” 

“You scared the shit outta me.” 

“I'm not sure how.” 

Eita cuts the engine on the mower and crosses to Reon. “I thought you weren't coming.” 

“I was at my parents’. There isn't really a good signal where they stay. I came anyway, sounded like you were in a pickle.” 

He didn't mean to sound hopeless and needy. (He always felt that way around Reon, dear God.) “Um, yeah. I've gotta set up.” Eita gestured to the uneven yard. “You can see my progress so far.” 

“Pretty good.” 

Eita snorted. “It's  _ not.  _ Thirty minutes and that's all I've done.” 

“Give yourself some credit, Eita.” 

Eita refused too. He was terrible at it, that was that. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” 

“I am a realist.” Eita corrected. “And as so, I conclude you could do more than me.” 

Reon grinned. “That's a backwards bet.” 

“Six-hundred yen says you can.” 

“Six-hundred yen and I’ll do it with my shirt on.” 

Eita gapes, then shakes his head, collecting his discarded shirt from the porch, and smiles. “Want some water?” 

“Sure.” 

He grabs two bottles from the fridge, minding to wipe his grass-covered feet off because his mom’ll have his ass if he tracks mud in, and makes a stop in the bathroom too. 

He wasn’t even inside five minutes, but when he returns, Reon’s almost done. 

Eita’s jaw drops, along with the bottles of water. He scoops them up, albeit his mouth is still slightly agape. 

How in the hell? 

Eita sits pretzel-style on the porch, confused and somewhat happy that he’d be out of six-hundred yen. (Though, he was the one who made the bet.) He watches Reon speed down the yard with much more finesse and expertise than Eita could ever have. The way he smoothly takes the curves is slightly upsetting. 

And Eita feels guilty for staring, but Reon is breathtaking. He’s shed his jacket, revealing a tank that leaves nothing to imagination. His broad shoulders and large, but fitting biceps… 

Eita’s lost in la-la land. 

Reon finishes soon after, but doesn’t seem to notice Eita, as he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, revealing all of that dark, umber skin, and Eita can’t help but blush. 

Reon sees him, and smiles, dragging the mower behind him. 

“Guess I owe you six-hundred yen.” 

“That water’ll be fine.” 

“So chivalrous.” Eita tossed him a bottle, Reon pops the top and takes a big gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, Eita fights in a swoon. 

Reon sits down beside him, leaning back on his elbows. Their legs knock together occasionally. 

“How in the hell’d you do that?” Eita looks over at Reon. Faint freckles dot his nose and cheeks. Simply gorgeous. 

“I cut my grandparents’ grass over the summer, so I guess I've gotten pretty good at it. Oh, and I don’t think the brake was all the way up.” 

Eita thinks he's joking. “It has a brake?” 

“That model does.” 

That explained why it felt like he was breaking his fucking back to get the damn thing to go two feet. “Well, I feel stupid.” 

They sit in silence, a mellow breeze blows, and Eita almost sighs with content. 

“What’s next?” Reon asks. 

“Chairs.” 

“Let’s do it.” Reon hops up, offering Eita a hand, and hell yeah, he takes it because at this point, he never wants Reon to  _ not  _ touch him. 

Eita shows him to the forty or so folding chairs they rented stacked against the side of their house. Eita grabs three, two under one arm and one under the other. He steps aside for Reon to grab a couple, but the Benkei look-alike grabs three chairs in one arm and another two held over his head. 

“That’s not fricking fair.” Eita says. 

Reon just smiles. “Life’s not fair.” 

The hell Eita knows, life abso-fucking-lutely is not fair when someone as perfect and pure as Reon is gracing the world with his presence. 

They start positioning them in rows of four, and when they’re about halfway through, Eita gets the illusion of a cheap ass family reunion or graduation. 

He sets down a chair, leaning up to wipe his forehead. “This shit’s gonna be trashy as hell.” 

“Mm,” Reon muses, setting down his six chairs. (The bastard upped his numbers.) “I think if I was that in love I wouldn’t want to wait either.” 

Eita honestly and truthfully never thought of it this way. Reon’s wisdom forever shocks him. 

“Maybe she just really wants to be married.” 

Eita looks down. 

“I think it’ll be lovely.” 

And Eita can’t take it anymore. “I think I’m holding a grudge against her. Takara and my mom.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Eita sits with a sigh. “I think I’m pissed with her for leaving.” 

Reon sits too. 

“We were the best of friends, I leaned on her a lot when dad died… I think I was closer to her more than when dad was alive,” He starts to bring a finger to his mouth, but instead chews the inside of his mouth. “So when she got the letter about the gifted program, I thought, ‘Takara’s not gonna leave me, she loves me too much,’ and next thing, we were at the airport seeing her off.” 

His lip quivers, his eyes are threatening to loose a tear. Eita palms his eyes. “Junior high was so bad, Reon…” 

“I think she feels guilty too. That’s why she’s trying to include you.” 

“But I don’t want it.” 

“Eita,” Reon’s hand is on top of his, gently pulling his hands away. “I think you do. More than anything, you do. You're happy that she's here, but your resentment is blocking it.” 

“Jeez, you should take up counseling,” Eita says it half-jokingly, blinking his eyes a few times to hold in the tears. 

Reon gives a lopsided smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “My parents are big on self-expression and feelings.” 

That was the least of his mother’s worries. 

“But, you're still hurting on the inside and her being here isn't helping. Doesn't mean you should give up. Just talk to her. Like you're talking to me.” 

Eita snorted. “I can't talk to anyone the way I talk to you.” 

“I'm not sure if that's a compliment or what?” 

“A compliment!” Eita smiles. “You're easy to talk to… And I enjoy our conversations. I enjoy your company.” 

“Me too.” 

He looks up, and Reon’s staring at him too. Eita’s eyes drift to Reon’s lips. He doesn't even try to hide it. Reon’s suddenly so close to him, so close their calves are flush together. 

Reon’s hands are warm on his wrists, and Eita can’t help but lean in, then Reon’s leaning into, and Eita’s thinking, ‘Kiss me, kiss me, please.’ 

Reon’s so close, Eita can hardly contain himself. He can feel the warmth emitting from his lips and when he’s about to plunge in, he hears the door slam. 

Eita jumps, but Reon is hardly moved. 

“Eita! Where are you?” His mother. 

Eita looks back to Reon, eyes wide, and Reon just grins, leaning down, pressing his lips to Eita forehead. Then he stands and goes to see if he can help.

* * *

The rehearsal dinner is on Saturday. Takara wants the entire wedding party to come, and by this time, Reon’s already considered part of it. 

Sora’s family is just like him; goofy and somewhat awkward, but mushy to the point of annoyance. They were very affectionate people. 

Eita didn’t hug people he didn’t know, that was just his standard, but it seemed they didn’t care because they wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug before he could refuse. All at once. Sora’s dad, mother, aunt, and uncles. 

“Nice to meet’cha.” The salt and pepper haired man that was Sora’s dad spoke in the same cartoon character manner his son did. Eita held in a sigh.

“Hello!” The short, chubby lady, his mother, smiled so big her eyes were squinty. 

“Hi,” Eita mumbled, stepping aside to avoid another bone-crushing hug.

They went on to hug Reon, who hugged them both back with a smile. Geez.

Ten minutes in, he'd met pretty much all of Sora’s family. (He had only one cousin, and she was in the wedding.) His job is done, so he takes a load off at the bar, watching, which was what he did best.

But sometimes it had its consequences. Like he couldn't defend himself at all in wrong conversations.

By chance, he finds himself in one of those moments, Takara explaining how she planned her wedding so fast.

“It took Eita some convincing, but he eventually gave in.”

Eita tried to hold his tongue, he really did, but it was honestly inevitable. “I was forced to.” 

She smiles, waving a hand dismissively. “Stop being silly.” 

And if there was one thing Eita hated, it was being belittled. Takara had an innate habit of making him feel like he was the size of an ant. 

“I’m not being stupid, I’m serious.”

“Excuse me,” She smiled politely, then turned towards Eita, brow furrowed. “Eita, what is it?” Her voice was sharp, like she was making time in her day to talk to him. 

He wants to tell her a thing or two, but remembers that this is her wedding and he should try to be nice. He sucks in a breath and walks off without another word. 

Reon finds him in the corner and Eita lets go of the breath he’d been holding. “I’m so fucking mad right now, Reon.” 

“I could tell. Just let it go, okay? It’s not worth it.” 

Eita nods, and Reon picks up his hand in his, giving it a firm grasp before walking off. 

Eita goes thirty minutes or so making cordial conversation with the others, mainly Reon. Sora’s parents, and aunt leave for their friend’s house where they’ll stay. Sora hangs back with his uncles.

The peace ends when Eita’s in the midst of eating and hears, “Eita! Come take a picture with us!” 

He scowls.

Reluctantly, he stands, and as if he has to be tortured even more, he has to stand directly beside the chipper, and frankly annoying Emiko. It's a sight to see. Her, the sun, shining brightly, and him, looking like death itself. 

“Aw, Eita,” Whatever family member taking the picture pleaded. “Smile will ya?” 

He frowned even more. 

_ “Eita.” _ Takara’s voice was like nails. “Do  _ not _ ruin my picture.” 

Eita wasn’t sure what did it for him, maybe it was the fact that she was so fucking selfish or the simple fact that she said  _ my picture _ , like everyone in the fucking picture belonged to her, like they were her pawns. Eita was no one’s pawn, not even his own sister’s. 

“How about I don’t take it at all, then?” He doesn’t leave time for her to answer, just stalks off, and in the back of his mind, he knows that she’s about to blow it way out of fucking proportion, but he can be just as, if not pettier than her. He learned from the best. 

“Eita, stop it. You’re acting like a child.” 

Eita could handle a lot of things; he could handle loud, rowdy people such as the ones he was around every day at practice, he could handle stupid people, hell, he could even handle unnecessarily nice people smiling in his face like fucking idiots. But what he could not handle was being called a  _ child. _

He stops in his tracks, fists clenched. _ “What?” _ He turns slowly, his jaw is clenched so much it hurts, but he hardly has time to worry about it. “What did you say?” 

He can hear someone (Reon, maybe?) urging him to stop, but he’s too far gone. There was no turning back. 

He knows that she knows she’s hit that sensitive subject, and any sane person would leave it alone, but his sister is not entirely sane (neither is he), and just narrows her eyes, stepping forward with her hands on her hips, dominantly. 

“I said you’re acting like a child. You need to grow up.” 

And before he can try to calm himself down with his methods he’s learned, his mouth opens, and he unleashes all the pent-up anger and anxiety and raw emotions. 

“I should grow up? Really? _Me?_ Are you that stupid?” He can push her buttons just as well as she can. 

“Don't you dare.” Her voice is dangerously low. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings? That's a childish thing to do, right?” 

“Eita, please.” It's his mom this time. 

“No, she's so smart and independent that just because I won't do one thing for her, I'm childish? No. She's the childish one.” Her face is so red, and Eita can hardly believe he's saying this. “I'm not the one who stomps and bitches whenever I don’t get my way, you do it. Do you have any idea how fucking  _ aggravating _ that is?” His voice is shaking with anger. “You always get whatever you want, and no one questions it, like we're supposed to follow behind you like fucking idiots. I'm tired of it.” 

“Eita, this isn't the place.” 

“Then, when is the place? You're finally home and it still isn't the right time. You're just avoiding the inevitable.” 

“We can talk after the wedding, okay?” 

“No, I didn’t even wanna be in this shit.” He can see tears sliding down her cheeks now. _ “You  _ forced me into it.  _ You _ . Just like you always do.” 

She sucks in a shuddering breath. “But, I didn’t, I-I told Sora it was his decision.” 

“Yeah, and you probably annoyed the fuck outta him until he gave in like you always do. It’s n—” 

“Hey,” Sora’s suddenly there beside Takara, and Eita can see the displeasure in his eyes. “She didn’t tell me anything about putting you in. It was my idea. I had the final say... And I’m honestly regretting it.” 

That does it. Hot tears are seeping out of his eyes, blurring his vision, and he stumbles backwards, running into a wall at first, then he’s groping for the door, because he has to get the hell outta there. 

He snatches the door open, letting it slam behind him; he’s staggering down the porch steps and almost falls, he has to clutch onto the column to balance himself, but by now, he’s shivering. Shivering in eighty degree weather. Shaking with anger, rage, and fear. He collapses to the ground, balling himself up in a little ball like he did when he was little. 

He takes deep, sobering breaths, but they aren’t helping, it’s just making him hyperventilate. He feels like he’s going to pass out. Everything is weighing on him at once, and he can’t take it anymore, his emotions are  _ strangling  _ him, slowly killing him. He welcomes it, at least he'd be away from his fucked up life. 

And then the door opens. 

Eita jumps, wiping his eyes, attempting to destroy evidence that he'd been crying. He wasn't successful. His wrists were smudged with black. His eyeliner. 

“Eita?” 

Eita turns, stomach dropping because there's Reon. The light from indoors was casting a shadow on him, so Eita couldn't see his features until he closed the door. His face (beautiful, gorgeous face) was pinched into a look of worry and confusion. Great. He'd caused pain and heartache for just about everyone. 

Reon sits wordlessly beside Eita as he wipes his nose. He leans against his shoulder, and Reon leans back. 

A beat of silence. 

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” Eita’s voice is hoarse. 

“I wouldn’t say that… Just made it livelier.” 

Eita chuckles, then goes silent for a bit. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I get so angry and lash out… I’m a fricking nut-case.” 

“You’re not. You’re healing, and sometimes it takes time. Results aren’t immediate.” 

Eita exhales, falling against Reon’s chest, and the tears start slipping out again. 

Reon just wraps his arms around him, his chin is on top of Eita’s head, and he’s stroking his back with those huge, gentle hands. 

Eita grasps onto the soft fabric of Reon’s sweater, sniffling, and tries to settle his breathing. 

Reon smells so good, fresh like detergent and oaky like the outdoors. It's amazing, sends little tingles down to Eita’s toes. 

He hiccups, then mumbles, “She’s so fucking perfect, and I’m not… No matter how hard I try, I’m not.” 

Reon’s lips are on his hair. Eita wonders if his hair stinks. “Nobody’s perfect, Eita.” 

Eita sniffles, gripping his sweater a little tighter. _ “You’re  _ perfect.” 

Reon gives a laugh. “I’m not.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m not, you’re not, Takara’s not. That’s just the way it is.” 

Eita goes quiet for a minute, then adds, “I don’t like it.” He shifts so that his ear is pressed to Reon’s chest. “S’not fair. You’re perfect to me. That should matter.” 

“I think you’re pretty great too.” 

They stay that way for a while, Eita swears he’s never met someone so kind, so caring and uplifting. He never felt that with his own family. Reon’s hands are tracing these little circles on his back, and he feels comfortable enough to fall asleep right there. 

“I ruined your shirt.” 

“It’s fine. Nothing a good wash won’t fix.” Then Reon’s hand is near his ear. “May I?” 

Eita meets him halfway, leaning into his touch. 

His hands run through his hair, caressing his cheek. Eita can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry, I… I probably look a mess.” He knew he had to. Running eyeliner and red eyes. Just thinking of it made him want to turn away from Reon. 

“No,” Reon says, then leans in real close. “You’re great just the way you are.” 

And his heart is thumping again, Reon’s drawing closer and closer, and he’s leaning in further and further. Almost to those sweet, sultry lips that know exactly what to say to make him feel like the most important person in the world. 

Then the door opens, and a feminine silhouette appears. 

“Eita-kun!” The shrill voice completely destroys the mood. “Where are you? Everyone’s—oh.” 

Eita glances up, and there’s Emiko. She looks surprisingly dejected. 

Eita sniffs, wiping his nose, and Reon pulls back, giving him a little space that he doesn’t want. He wants to listen to Reon’s heartbeat forever. 

“Yeah?” Eita manages. 

“Your mom wanted me to check on you and tell you to come inside.” 

“I’ll be in in a minute.” 

She leaves without another word. 

Eita exhales, then glances up at Reon. “Guess I’ve gotta meet my maker.” 

Reon expels a breath. “It won’t be that bad. I know it.” 

“Yeah, well, you don’t know my mom.” 

“I can stay. If it makes it easier.” 

He can’t believe the noble nature of Reon sometimes. 

“You’ll be late.” 

“It’s fine, really. I was supposed to go to my parents’ anyway, I’ll tell them I’m with a friend.” 

Eita nods, and Reon says, “Breathe.” 

He does. Then they stand and go inside. 


	3. You just know

He knows that his mom is good at taking charge in situations that need fixing, but he never knew the extent that she could handle. When they come in, she has efficiently handled Sora and the guests while all Eita’s done is cry. Sora’s in the study, calming down a bit, and the guests are all sitting in the living area.

Eita feels embarrassed standing there in front of them.

“Um,” He looks to Reon, who just places his hand on the small of Eita’s back. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for… And highly disrespectful. I’m sorry.”

They all chime in, happily accepting his apology, and he feels a flood of relief come over him.

His mother’s back in front of them, explaining that Takara wasn’t feeling well, and she fell asleep, and they should all go home and get some rest.

They file out, then she turns to her son. “Eita, go apologize to your sister.”

Eita knows better than to disobey her.

He knocks on the door gently, waits for a bit, then opens it slightly. She’s lying on the bed with her back to him, curled in a ball, similar to how he was before. It was so quiet that it was unnerving. For a moment, he thought she was asleep. Then he heard a sniffle. A wave of guilt flushed over him.

“Takara,” His voice was croaky and weird. “Can I… Can I come in?”

She glanced over her shoulder, which just quadrupled his guilt, because her eyes were red as hell and she was blotchy-faced. Because of him.

She sat up, giving a slight nod before pulling stray strands of hair from her face. Takara was never a big crier, he could count the times he’d seen her cry on one hand, so it always came to a shock to him when he witnessed it. It didn’t suit her. At all.

“Stop it, stop,” She wipes her eyes. “I… I know what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You always make that face when you feel sorry for someone. And I don’t need your pity… because we’re both to blame here.”

He stared at her, stunned by her bluntness and overall exactness. Then averted his gaze to the floor.

“Come. Sit.” She patted the spot beside her.

He sits down, hands tight fists in his lap, and she just lays hers atop of his and sniffles once more.

“I'm not gonna start with I'm sorry… And I don't want you to either.”

So he doesn't. He tells her how he felt. How he felt overwhelmed with the pace that things were going at, how he felt like he didn't know her at all. And she grins, admits the same thing.

“Soon as this semester’s done,” She wipes her nose. “I'm coming home and we’re gonna hang out until we're tired of each other.”

And honestly, he wanted nothing more. He smiles, and she ruffles his hair like she did when he was little. “We probably should’ve done this right when I came back. Just me and you.”

Yeah. That would've saved so much trouble.

They continue to talk about it all; how her leaving affected him, how he missed her so much some days that he didn’t want to go on. And she explains that she regretted actually going away, and was homesick basically every day, and wanted to talk to him every hour of every day, and was sad that she couldn’t.

Their mother comes in after a while. She listens at first, then she’s joining in with helpful bits of advice.

Eita tells her how  _ she _ made him feel: inferior, always number two compared to his sister.

And his mom, with her no-shit, practically emotionless character, cries. She tells him that she always felt he could handle himself more than Takara could, he was more self-sufficient than her. Takara was in so many activities as a child, and sometimes she could barely keep up, and all Eita had was volleyball. She thought he was fine. She wipes her eyes, whispering about how much she wishes their dad was there, how he’d be able to fix her mess.

Takara says, “We’re a mess together. A hot mess.” She hugs their mom, kissing her cheek. Then she beckons for Eita to come.

He hesitates at first, then slowly makes his way over. He sits, his knee touching Takara’s, then next thing he knows, he’s being pulled in close till his head’s on both of their shoulders. Their two scents diffuse, the sweet, flowery aroma of Takara battles with his mom’s sophisticated, mature scent. They seem foreign together, but Eita finds comfort in their differences. He feels safe.

He isn’t sure how long it takes, and he’s exhausted afterwards, but he’s happy. Finally happy with his small, complicated family.

…

When he comes out, the big clock on the wall reads eleven-twenty-one PM. They’d talked for almost an hour.

He expects Reon to be asleep, but he’s where they left him, just in a change of clothes. His sweater is gone, replaced with a tee and shorts.

And beside him is Sora.

The frazzled man jumps up when he sees them, going straight to the least likely choice: Eita.

“Eita, let me apologize.”

Eita’s eyes are huge.

“I shouldn’t have said that to you. It was wrong, and I didn’t mean it at all. I don’t regret picking you. But, I can understand if you don’t want to be in it anymore. I’m not forcing you to do it.”

He was shocked. Sora wasn't some stuck-up brat with his head shoved up Takara’s ass. He actually wanted to form a relationship with him.

Eita grinned softly. “I’m happy to be in it.”

And Sora grins too, then he squeezes the daylights out of Eita with one of his death hugs. “Thanks so much. I'm sorry again, otouto.”

Eita’s taken aback. Starting tomorrow, Sora would be his brother-in-law.

His mother says, “Sora-kun, you can go in and tell Takara good night.”

He races off.

Then she turns to Reon. “I hope you aren’t trying to leave this late. Stay, won’t you?”

Reon beams, then thanks her.

“I wouldn't want anyone out this late.”

“I'll go get some sheets.” Eita heads for the linen closet.

“Heavens, no.” She says. “He's a guest, he’ll sleep in a room. Take him with you, Eita. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” She gives Eita this look, like she knows something that he doesn't. He gets the feeling that his mom is trying to hook him up.

She knew more than he gave her credit for.

Reon’s never been in his room before, he feels a little self-conscious at first, but then he remembers that Reon would never judge him. He wouldn't care about his miscellaneous posters of bands and rappers or his own growing collection of nail polish. (He was teaching himself to do it.)

He wouldn't laugh at the clusterfuck of colors and patterns that he decorated with, the bright, fugly furniture and rugs that didn't really match, but looked nice to him, so he bought them. (Not to mention the mountains of volleyball gear and achievements and what not, along with pictures he'd snapped of the team.) He wouldn't laugh at all... Yeah, Eita was lying to himself.

But Reon’s pretty quiet, just drops his duffle bag down on the floor and hangs his garment bag in the door handle.

Eita goes into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and pulling on a tee and sweats. When he emerges ten minutes later, he almost trips over a lump of blankets on the floor. He starts to curse, but notices the curly high-top fade poking out from underneath, and realizes it’s Reon.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Reon peeks up.

“Why are you on the floor? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“I’m fine.”

That wasn’t gonna fly. “Come up here. To the bed. It’s big enough.” The last one was a little fib, but he didn’t feel right letting such a pure and perfect person sleep on the floor.

“It’s a full-sized bed.”

“So?”

Reon makes this noise, and Eita just hops over him and falls onto the bed. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, so come on already.”

Reon doesn’t protest (much), and then he’s beside Eita, and it’s here that he realizes how  _ big  _ Reon is. Not necessarily height, but his shoulders and chest, and  _ girth. _ He looks boxed in.

Reon sorta sighs, then shifts off his hip. His tree trunk of a thigh was pushed forward, then suddenly between Eita’s legs, damn near impaling  _ that certain organ. _

Eita held in a wince. “Oh-oh! Okay.”

“God almighty, I’m sorry. I knew this was a bad idea.”

No. No fricking way. He’d gotten this far, there was no way Eita was going back.

“S’fine, s’fine.” He sugarcoats. “Here, lemme scoot back.” Eita backs up until his butt touches the wall, and then pulls Reon forward. “Better?” He's pressed against Reon, his smaller, somewhat scrawnier chest flush against Reon’s bulky one. Their legs a tangle of limbs with Reon’s thigh sitting lower than it was before. He has to crane his neck to see Reon.

“Better.” Reon’s lips curl into a smile, he brushes a piece of hair from Eita’s eye. Eita sinks into his touch.

Reon kisses his forehead, then his nose. Small, delicate kisses. Eita’s eyelids fell against his cheeks. It was relaxing. Like angel kisses.

Eita tugs those large, strong arms around him. They’re heavy on his hips, and Eita shimmies underneath him, head to Reon’s collarbone.

He feels at peace. Tomorrow will be fine. He’ll celebrate his sister’s wedding. They’ll eat cake, open gifts, share stories, and make new memories. Wait…

Holy shit.

“God-fucking-dammit.”

“Y’know,” Reon says. “You’d give a sailor a run for his money.”

“I forgot to get Takara a gift.” He mumbles against Reon’s collarbone. “I’ve been so preoccupied, it slipped my mind.”

“Eita.”

“I can’t fucking believe it.” He feels like an insensitive asshole. On the happiest day of his sister’s life, he wouldn’t have anything to give her. Pathetic.

“She’s not that superficial. If you explain it to her, she’ll understand.”

“But—”

“You get worked up over every little thing,” Reon rubs circles onto Eita back with his fingers. It stops him in his tracks. “It’s adorable.”

Eita’s breath hitches a little, then he’s blushing madly. God, he’s glad Reon can’t see him. He probably looked a mess.

“Cheeky bastard,” He mutters with a huff. “Stop teasing me.”

“You make it so easy.”

Eita hummed, pressing his lips to Reon’s collarbone and inhaled. That smell... It was indescribable. His toes curled, grip on Reon’s shirt tightening. He feels safe, secure in where he is right now, and he never wants it to end, never wants to forget this moment. But sleep comes, and he can't fight it.

* * *

_ Takara was under the porch, intently studying a book, and he was in the yard, passing a volleyball to himself. Their mom was working the weekend shift down at the library, and had left Takara to look over him, which confused him. He could take care of himself just fine. _

_ Eita was twelve, in his last year of elementary school. Takara was sixteen, a first-year in high school. She went to Shiratorizawa, the school that Eita idolized because of its volleyball club. He wasn’t accepted to the middle school, but he wasn’t unfazed. Because of what Takara had told him. (‘Don’t give up. If you get knocked down, don’t stay down. Keep trying.’) _

_ So, he set a new goal for himself. Practice. He’d practice until he was so good, they’d want him. But saying he’d practice was easier than doing it. The ball fell to the ground for the umpteenth time. He groaned. _

_ “Otouto.” _

_ He turned, staring at his sister. She looked so different from him. Wide, pastel blue eyes and big framed glasses, whereas he had slanted, angular dark eyes. Her flowing, brown hair. His smoky, short hair. Sometimes, he wished he had her appearance. Maybe then he’d have more friends. _

_ “Hm?” _

_ The thick book was tossed aside. She patted the concrete beside her. “Come talk to me.” _

_ He scooped up the ball, shuffling over to her, settling down on his knees. _

_ “You’re getting really good.” _

_ “Yeah, I guess so.” _

_ “Keep practicing, okay? Promise?” She looked so sincere, so genuine that he couldn’t help but nod. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ She ruffled his hair, smiling gently. “I believe in you. Remember that.” _

_ He smiled back up at her. He admired her so much. She always knew what to say no matter how he was feeling. She was that amazing. _

_ Takara leaned back on her palms, blowing out a soft breath. “Okay. I’ve got a weird question for you.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “What do you want to do with your life?” _

_ He hadn’t been expecting that. But he knew how to answer it. _

_ “Play volleyball.” He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. _

_ She chuckled. “That’s great, perfect even,” Her gaze drifted upwards to the blue sky above. “I want to go to college, get a good job, and… Be everything that everyone expects me to be,” She sighed softly. “But… I also want to find my star prince.” She spoke from her heart, Eita could tell from the look in her eyes, and the way she gushed over every syllable. _

_ “What’s that?” _

_ “A star prince?” She grinned, then pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Have I got a tale for you.” _

_ She started by telling him the meanings of the words separately. A star, apparently, wasn’t just a twinkling object in the sky. Rather, it was ‘any of the heavenly bodies, except the moon, appearing as fixed luminous points in the sky at night.’ And a prince (traditionally) was a ‘the son of a monarch.’ _

_ (Eita never knew there were such detailed definitions for simple words.) _

_ “Now,” Takara said thoughtfully. “Putting them together, what do you think it means?” _

_ “Um, the son of a… universal king?” _

_ She laughed. “You’re thinking too superficial. Think of what it means on a more significant level.” _

_ He thought for a bit. Nothing came to him. _

_ “I dunno. Tell me.” _

_ Takara closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Simply, it’s a guy that’s made specifically for you. Destined for you and only you.” _

_ It was a new and mysterious term for Eita, yet it enticed him. He wanted to know more. _

_ “He’s not the real prince of something, but his aura, it’s one of a prince’s. He’s like a prince, handsome and strong and brave, but all especially for you.” Her eyes were shining. “On a more complex scale, the heavens arranged someone specially for you. Through the entire time the world has been, there’s been someone to be made ju—” _

_ “Just for you.” He finished. _

_ Takara smiled. “Yeah… Just think of it, Eita. Try to grasp the immensity of it. For every star in the sky, there’s a prince made for someone. And those are just the ones we can see. What about the ones we don’t know are there?” _

_ Whoa. _

_ “How do you find ‘em?” He asked. “How do you know where he is?” _

_ “Statistically speaking, he could be halfway around the world. Or right in front of you.” _

_ So now there were statistics and numbers for finding a star prince? That stunk. Takara told him math and science never lied, so looking at the facts, it seemed he’d never find his star prince. _

_ “There’s no exact way to find him. Sometimes, he finds you. You never know.” She clutched her chest. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work. Tracking him down, the hin actually realizing he’s your prince. But it’s worth it. So worth it.” _

_ He could see her pulse quickening, Eita’s own heart was beating faster, because sure, he wanted to play volleyball, but he wanted to find what Takara was looking for too. A star prince. A guy that was made for him from the heavens. It seemed dreamy. _

_ “How do you know when you’ve found ‘em?” _

_ “Well,” She took a breath. “There’s three signs. He’ll come unexpectedly. He’ll always make himself available for you. And… You just know, y’know?” _

_ He wished he did. _

_ “A star prince,” Eita repeated to her. “You think there's one out there for me?” _

_ She looked at him, then smiled. “Of course there is.” _

_ He couldn’t wait to find him. He’d track him down all the way to the end if he had to. He’d find him. _

* * *

Eita wakes shortly afterwards, confused, unable to decipher the meaning of the dream. Having it at that particular moment. Did it mean Reon was his star prince?

Reon had curled down on top of him a little, so that his head was above his rather than across. Eita pushed back a little, then glanced up just for security, staring at his comatose form. Slack eyes and brow. His lips were slightly pursed. Eita could've kissed him there and he wouldn't know. He shook the thought away. Besides that, the dream had given him an idea. He knew exactly what he was going to give Takara and Sora for a gift.

He wriggled from Reon’s grasp, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty.

He pads lightly across the hardwood to his desk. The analog on the dresser says it’s almost three AM. He rambles for a leftover canvas from his art phase, pulling out his paintbrushes.

He works under the moonlight, soothed by Reon’s gentle snoring and the warm feeling inside of him.

* * *

When Eita wakes up Sunday, it seems too peaceful. Too perfect. The sun’s shining a little too radiantly, everything is going a little  _ too _ okay.

Eita decides that it has to be Reon. He's the only thing that is different there, he has to be a good luck charm.

Reon’s already up when he drags himself from bed, to the bathroom for a quick shower.

The kitchen smells heavenly, and he leaves the room. His mother’s a one-woman army in the kitchen. The entire menu is before them. He wonders just how early she had to get up. Then he sees Reon beside her, helping his mother cook.

“I didn’t know you could cook?”

“He’s pretty good at it too,” She gives a small smile. “Sleep well?”

Eita never felt better.

“Reon-kun,” She says. “I’ve got it from here. I'd appreciate it if you two could start moving the furniture for the reception.”

They move the couch towards the wall, and his mom decides that it's not enough room, so then they move it to the already cluttered garage. Then they blow up balloons, and by the third one, Eita’s loopier than Satori when he inhales polish for too long. Reon grins, and Eita can’t believe how talented he is. He cooks and blows balloons well. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

They take them outside, and tie them to the end chairs. Eita steps back, and takes in the backyard. It actually looked presentable. Despite all the trouble it took to get there.

“Looks pretty good, huh?” Reon reads his mind.

“Yeah, it does.”

Then they head inside and straighten up the foyer for the flood of shoes sure to come.

“Good work,” His mom gives a rare smile. “Come get some food.”

They eat, and Takara comes out, giving them all big hugs.

“Morning. I'm so excited!”

“Mhm, eat,” Their mom says. “Then go get ready.”

She takes her bowl of oatmeal with her to her room, phone already in hand, and Eita can’t believe that it’s actually happening. Today was Takara’s wedding. She pulled off the quickest, thorough wedding he’d ever seen. And it didn’t seem like an absolute train wreck.

His mother checks her watch, then shoos them off to get ready, telling them to hurry before Sora and the other groomsmen arrive so they can help before she leaves to go grab the cake from the pastry shop the team frequented weekly.

Even as he’s getting himself ready, Eita gets into his slacks and shirt with no hassle, and doesn't even have to ask for help with his tie. And even more frightening, he applies his eyeliner in one swipe. It's fucking weird.

Reon got dressed in another room, and he looks gorgeous, the bow tie shimmering against his skin.

The bridal party comes, maid of honor and the other girl. Emiko’s nowhere to be seen.

“Can someone call Emiko?” Takara says. “Just so I can know where she is.”

They squeal and giggle, it's slowly getting on Eita’s nerves.

The groomsmen come in through the back door, per Sora. He didn't want to see Takara and be cursed with bad luck. Eita couldn't believe a college-educated man believed such superstitions.

“Okay?” Eita patted his shoulder.

Sora gave him a look that was less than assuring. “Y-yeah?”

Eita smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s just as nervous as you.” It was a lie, but one for the better good of the groom. It’d probably be permitted.

“Really?” He looked relieved. “I thought it was just me.”

“Everyone’s on edge. Even mom looked unnerved.”

“Okay, I can do this. I can do this.” Sora took one look at the banner hung above the doorway of the living room and almost fainted. (‘Semi Takara and Semi Sora!’ it read in big bold letters.) “I  _ can’t _ do this!”

Reon caught him as he lost his balance, and the groomsmen started in with fanning him with magazines. Once he was calmed a bit, they congregated in the back room, attempting to calm a nervous Sora when Takara stumbled in (and Sora fled) like a whirlwind, her hair’s halfway done, makeup too. And she's near tears.

“Emiko’s sick! My perfect day is ruined.”

Eita knew it'd end up fricking ruined, just his intuition.

Eita can hardly see how one of the bridesmaids missing ruins the day, but says nothing. Then he realizes that Emiko’s his partner and he'll have to walk alone.

“Ruined!” Takara wails.

And Reon, ever the gentleman, says, “I'll do it.”

Everything stalls for a minute. Then Takara speaks. “Huh?”

“I'll do it. Take her place. All I have to do is walk in, right?”

He made it sound so simple.

Everything's moving in slow motion. Did Reon agree to walk him down the aisle?

_ “Reon-kun!” _ Takara hugs him. “Thank you, thank you! Okay, get him in a blue tie and accents, ASAP!”

Reon’s whisked away by the groomsmen, Eita is left in the dust. His mind wasn't working correctly, it took him quite some time to realize that Reon (stunning, astounding Reon) would be the very first  _ bridesman. _

With that, he bolts from the room. He doesn't know where he's going, but he has to get out of there, away from his confusion. 

He’s almost to his room, but a knock at the front door stalls his retreat. He opens the door, a short man with a balding head and a thick book under his arm, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. “Hello. Is this the Semi residence?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Can you tell me where I go? I’m here to officiate a wedding.”

Eita stares at the man for a moment, and flees. Flees to his own room where he can panic in peace. Hands in his hair, forehead against the desk. Then he stares out of his window at the steadily growing crowd of people.

Being in front of potentially hundreds of people playing volleyball was nothing. But being in front of quite possibly the most hypocritical people walking down an aisle with someone he frankly adored was the most nerve-wrecking thing that could ever happen.

“Eita?” There’s a knock at the door. Eita doesn't respond. He just drops his head on the desk. The door opens and he already knows it's Reon. “There you are. We need to get in line.”

“I… I can't do it.” He mutters from his arms.

“What?”

“I can't do it. I'll freeze up. I'm gonna look like a fucking idiot. I-it’s not you, it’s me. You’re just so perfect.”

He turns, Reon’s absolutely with his sleeves rolled up, blue bow tie around his neck. It's the same attire he’s in himself, but it looks better on Reon.

Reon frowns, really frowns. “I told you before, I'm not. And you won't freeze up, it'll be fine.”

“I'm not going out there.” He sits up, but doesn't look at Reon. He stared out the window.

“Eita.” His voice is gruff, and it makes him turn. “There's no possible way  _ you  _ could look like a fool.”

Eita could easily refute that statement, but decides against it and sighs heavily.

“You can do it. I know you can. I'll be right there by your side.”

And it’s here that Eita remembers the three signs. He’ll come unexpectedly, he’ll make himself available for him, and he’d just know.

He stands, crosses to Reon. He chews the inside of his mouth, then blurts, “Do you believe in star princes?”

“I believe in you.”

That was all he needed.

His lips are softer than Eita expected. And so are his movements. He's cautious, but thorough. His hands are on Eita’s hips, and Eita’s are on either side of his face.

He's so warm, and he feels safe, like he belongs near him, he belongs pressed against him, he just  _ belongs. _

And he forgets that there's a wedding to get to, he forgets all about his worries and strife like that one song said, because if Reon,  _ beautiful, wonderful, perfect Reon, _ believes in him, then he could fly to the fucking moon on his own. His presence was that strong.

Reon's the first to pull away. His eyes are half-lidded, and Eita wants to treasure that sight forever.

Then he mumbles, “M’sorry, I didn’t ask.”

And Eita whispers, “Again. Do it again.  _ Please _ .” He's never been one to beg, but Reon makes him feel like a completely different person anyway, so what the hell.

He does, this time his large hands are on either side of Eita’s head, slowly tangling into his ashy hair.

Eita clutches onto the front of Reon's tux for dear life, because dear  _ God, _ he feels like he's going to pass the fuck out.

Reon's lips are so, so soft, and Eita’s need is so, so great. He can't help parting his mouth, even just a little. Reon's lower lip is between his, and Eita can't believe such a thing exists.

He sucks Reon's lower lip.

And the sound Reon gives out is one that Eita will remember his entire life. Low and rumbling, but soft at the same time. Simply beautiful.

(Not to mention the fact that Reon actually lost his footing a little in the process.)

Eita's about to collapse on the fucking floor and let Reon fricking demolish him when he hears his mother's voice.

“Eita! Get in here! Right. Now.”

They part, both gasping for air, but there's no time to wait around. They both dart out of his room to the foyer.

His mother is there as they pull on their shoes.

“Where've you been! And, gracious, what happened to your hair?”

Eita turns to the mirror on the wall, and flushes. He combs his hair down with his fingers. It has no effect.

“I, um, took a nap.”

“Well, did Reon take one with you? Lean down.” She pats his hair into place.

Eita’s cheeks are on fucking fire. (He's sure Reon's are too.)

“I sent him to get you ten minutes ago.”

Did they kiss for ten minutes? It hardly seemed like one minute.

“I apologize.” Reon clears his throat. “I had jitters.”

Eita can't help the snort that escapes him. Never in all his time of knowing Reon did he recall the cool and collected momma bear having jitters.

“It's fine, you're here now,” She checks her watch, eyes bulging. “We're behind.” She grabs a bushel of flowers off the table, shoving them in Reon's hand, then ushers the two out of the door.

They round the corner, slipping in between the first couple and the maid of honor and best man. Just in time.

Reon holds his arm up, and it takes Eita a moment to figure out what for.  _ Oh. _

He loops his arm around Reon's bicep (which he never realized was so huge) and that's when his hands start sweating. (Along with his forehead and other areas.)

Reon, ever observant, tells him, “It'll be fine.”

Eita nods, still finding it hard to believe.

“Just breathe.”

He does, and slowly (very slowly) finds himself calming down.

Reon hardly looks perturbed, confident if anything. He looks regal with the bouquet of flowers in his right hand and his other atop of Eita’s arm. A prince.

He's suddenly aware of the close proximity they're in to each other, Reon's so close that he can lay his head on his shoulder. (And boy, does he want to.) Eita’s breathing is becoming ragged, so he holds his breath. It helps.

The first couple enters, they wait ten seconds or so, then start in. Eita knows there's no turning back.

Everyone's turned, staring at them, but Eita keeps his gaze forward, though he can see the puzzled expressions on the crowd's faces, and also, he vaguely sees a fiery red head of hair from which he hears whistling and what not. Then a quick blow landing, followed by a low, but audible, “Ow.”

His hands are fists, his knuckles are probably white from how hard he's gripping them, but Reon's hand falls over his, and he relaxes.

They stop mid-way down the aisle for the photographer to get a photo, and despite the constant reminder to look forward at the camera and smile, Eita glances to his right, to the amazing person beside him. Reon's smiling, that all-knowing, toothy smile, and his eyes are shining. Just his presence, being around him, makes Eita’s heart race, and he smiles softly.

He hears the camera shutter.

…

Once they part, Eita immediately misses Reon's warmth.

The maid and best man start in, dropping flowers as they progress, and Eita takes a chance and glances out into the crowd. Of course, he catches Satori’s eye, and the obnoxious dipshit smirks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Eita looks away.

Finally, it's Takara and his mother's turn.

Likewise, his sister is beautiful, her dark hair his half up, half down, and her subtle makeup naturally brings out her beauty.

Eita finds himself smiling.

The next few moments are a whirlwind; rings and vows and  _ forevermores _ . Eita swears he's never seen Takara happier. And that alone makes him happy too.

They kiss, and there's applause, and after signing the marriage license, they file back out the way they came, Reon falling in next to Eita. Their hands link together.

…

They’ve taken pictures, and Takara’s gone upstairs to change for the reception.

Eita is standing with Sora.

The newlywed wipes his forehead. “That was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

“You did great.” Eita means it with all honesty. He knew that he couldn’t have done it, hell, even with Reon coaching him through walking down the aisle, he was a wreck.

_ “You  _ were great,” He shakes his head. “You and Reon saved the day. There’s no telling what Takara would’ve done if he hadn’t said something when he did. I thought I was gonna be married in a hospital.”

Eita smiles downward, then there’s a hand on his shoulder. He glances up, meeting intense, dark eyes.

“Tell him I said thanks a lot. He saved my ass. Literally.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

And he’s pulled in for a hug, and this time Eita doesn’t pull away. He embraces  _ him. _ His brother. He’d never had one before.

He pulls away with a clap on Eita’s back. “Tell Reon I’ll be ready when he pops the question to ya.” The bastard winks, and takes off before Eita can recover. He just gawks.

Eventually, he regains composure, and strolls over to Reon, who’s talking with one of Sora’s uncles. He gets this look on his face when he notices Eita drawing closer. It makes his face warm. Reon excuses himself, and then he’s in front of Eita.

“You did it.”

Eita grins.  _ “We _ did it.”

“Nah,” Reon fans a hand. “It was all you.”

Eita thinks this is a damn lie, he didn’t do anything but complain and gripe and make it harder for everyone else, but the longer he thought, the more he realized that he may have done more than he actually believed.

Agreeing to be Sora’s final groomsman, getting along with the guests, and setting up the house and yard for the ceremony. He did do it. But it wasn’t him alone. Reon was there the entire time, keeping him on track.

He reaches for Reon’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Reon smiles, opening his mouth to say something, but a sharp noise cuts through the peace.

“Eita!”

Eita flinches as long arms wrap around his shoulders. He knows who it is from the mint green fingernails and myriad rings and other knick-knacks on his fingers.

“You looked great!” Satori twirls him around, pulling him in for a hug. Eita doesn’t know how many more hugs he can take. “I’m so proud of you! Both of you.” Then he’s on Reon, smothering the spiker in hugs and kisses. A whirlwind of colors and energy.

“You're talking like we won an award or something.”

“You may as well have,” Taichi says. “You're famous on Yamagata-san’s  _ Snapchat.” _

Eita stared at the libero. Hayato stared back for a moment, then huffed.

“I actually had my phone today, so I got some great footage.”

Eita made them proud? Woah.

“Thanks, guys.” Reon says.

“It was a lovely ceremony.” Wakatoshi adds with a nod. “Please give your sister our congrats.”

“It was so lovely!” Satori coos.

“Semi-san,” Tsutomu grins. “I wanna be in a wedding just like you and Reon-san!”

Kenjirou rolls his eyes. “It's not the military, Tsutomu.”

“Hey,” Satori grabs Tsutomu’s shoulders. “Ask this precious bundle of joy why he’s still in his school uniform.”

“Tsutomu,” The corners of Eita’s mouth twist upward. “Why’re you in your uniform?”

“My ha-ha made me. My other suits were still in the cleaners and she told me I wasn’t going to a wedding looking a fool. So, she told me to put on my uniform.”

“Your mother is an extremely thoughtful and smart lady,” Eita’s full on grinning now. He eyes Hayato’s attire: jeans and a tee with a jacket over it. Hm...

“What?” Hayato threw his arms up. “You never told us a dress code.”

“It's a  _ wedding.” _

“And?”

“All the weddings you claim to have gone to, and you don’t know how to dress?”

“Neither do you.”

And Satori damn near falls over wheezing, Eita just watches as his mother shoots a chilling look at the group, and Satori shuts the hell up.

Tsutomu shivers. “Semi-san, your mom’s scary.”

“She’s darling,” Satori says. “Momma Semi!” He fans his arm in the air. “Yoo-hoo!”

She turns, gaze like that of an eagle, and Tsutomj lets out a small meep, hiding behind Wakatoshi. She walks off.

“Maybe she didn't see me, hm. I'm gonna go say hi!”

“You do that.”

And eventually, they all disperse, Reon and Eita for the bridal parties dance, the others for some mischief, he guessed.

They're herded to the center of the room, Reon’s hands settle on his hips, fingertips heavy against his knobby waist.

His hands settle on Reon’s shoulders, and he looks up at him, unashamed of it all. Reon grins, and Eita does too.

They start a simple box step which turns disastrous because Eita’s stomping on Reon’s toes.

He huffs, “This is what I get for skipping rehearsal.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Tell your toes the same thing.”

Reon snickers. “Here,” He guides Eita’s steps. “When I go forward, you go back, and vice-versa.”

“Okay.” He steps forward as Reon goes back, and smiles when he gets four successful consecutive tries.

“Doing great.” Reon gives his hips a squeeze of affirmation, and Eita almost passes out there because even something that simple from Reon makes him weak in the knees.

He can’t even swoon in peace, he hears someone whisper, “Psst, hey!”

He thinks he’s hearing things at first, but the same perplexed look is on Reon’s face.

“Look this way!”

He looks to his left, Reon follows in suit.

_ “This way _ , dammit.”

Eita scoffs, turns his head to the right.

There’s Hayato, phone in hand. He was serious when he said it. “Say, ‘Just hitched!’”

Reon laughs softly, Eita flips the camera off.

“Amazing, I’m getting it framed.”

“Hayato,” Satori sorta hums. “There’s Momma Semi.”

“Yikes,” Hayato jolts, shoving the camera into his jean pocket and merging into the crowd all in one fluid motion. Eita’s mom passes by less than a second later.

“I hope she puts him out.”

Reon laughs.

The music swells and Eita’s head falls against Reon’s chest, eyes closing too. It feels so nice, he’s full and complete, actually happy, not just happiness in one aspect of his life. He gets this tingly feeling inside, either he’s buzzing with energy or Reon’s presence has him jittery. (He’s leaning towards the latter.)

And when he thinks it can’t get any better, Reon leans down pressing a peck to the top of his head. Then another. Next thing Eita’s knows, he’s trailing downwards, lips finally landing on the skin of his cheek. Eita gives a small laugh, glancing up. He’s never met someone who makes him feel this way, who undeniably wants to see him succeed for no personal benefit to them. Just for the betterment of the person themselves. Eita swears he's never seen anything so pure, so genuine and good natured. It makes him feel on fire inside.

Then Eita does something he never would have dreamed of doing in public. He kisses Reon square on the lips, those full,  _ soft _ lips that are the exact opposite of his. He does it in front of everyone, not caring who sees, he  _ wants _ them all to see. To see the amazing, extraordinary person he's in the arms of.

They've stopped dancing, just standing there still, Eita’s hands are on either side of Reon’s face, Reon’s are around his back, encasing him. Safety and truthfulness are what he feels when he's in his grasp. He loves it.

Any doubt or wariness he had dissipated, he wasn't running anymore. He wasn't going anywhere. Being there in the moment with Reon and his friends and family was the most important thing to him.

…

“I just got off the phone with Emiko.”

“Really?” He mutters into her hair. “What’d she say?”

“She wasn’t really sick. She bailed because she didn't want to disrupt you and Reon’s relationship.”

“Hm.” Eita mumbled. That still didn't give her the right to leave her responsibility behind.

“I had nerve enough to trash her there.”

He smiled. It was like old times, except then she was the one leading him. Now he could lead himself.

“I’m proud of you.” He said.

“Yeah, well,” She smiled. “Thank you, Eita.” She whispers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He gets this fuzzy feeling in his chest. It's comforting.

“By the way, I loved your gift.” She smiles, going to ruffle his hair, but stops short, and drops her hand. “I keep forgetting you’re not a little kid anymore.” Her eyes are glassy, and he thinks that maybe his own eyes are doing the same. “Um, but, I didn't think you'd still remember that. The ol’ star prince tale.”

Eita smiled. “Me neither. It just… came back.”

“Well,” She grinned. “It'll be the first thing I hang on the wall.”

She was trying to change. And if she could, he could too.

She kisses his cheek, then waltzes off in the direction of Sora.

“Are you guys okay?” Reon approaches.

“I think we're better than okay.”

Reon smiled. “Finally.”

They go to greet their idiot friends, passing the gift table in the process. He sees the team's gifts. A matching his and hers set of towels. Very practical, likely an idea from Reon. And then best/worst of all, custom Shiratorizawa jerseys. Eita snickered just thinking of Satori presenting them to his sister. Then his own gift. A horizontal canvas with wispy, blue writing. It read:  _ Signs of a Star Prince. He'll come unexpectedly. He'll make himself available. And you'll just know. _

He smiles inwardly, then goes to catch up with the others.

Hayato says, “Who wants to help me hijack the deejay stand?”

Eita frowns. “Didn’t my mom put you out?”

“She simply suggested I wait outdoors and I suggested otherwise.”

In other words, yes.

“How classless is that,” Satori caws. “Hijacking something at a wedding—”

The music suddenly changes from the simple background tune to a loud, funky bass line and Hayato’s a ball of energy. “Aw, I love this! C’mon, let’s go!”

He zips out on the floor, Satori right on his trails, Tsutomu following his senpai. Wakatoshi, Kenjirou, and Taichi move at a significantly slower pace.

Reon smiles, and Eita reaches for his hand, finding Reon halfway there. He grips it firmly as they join the crowd, the speakers booming, a tenor voice sang of disco-jazz.

And as he dances with Reon, Eita can't help but feel that he's indeed found his star prince, the person he's sure he'll love until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to @princesadaisy for encouraging me to post this! love you, girl <33


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